


Exposed

by ddagent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Attraction, Caught in the Act, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Ser Jaime is enjoying himself with a fellow knight from a recent tourney when his father catches them in the act. Arguments and arranged marriages ensue.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 95
Kudos: 549





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompted me: "'My father caught us having sex and he ordered me to marry you because he wouldn’t have me destroying anyone’s honor, well, that’s awkward, I don’t even know your name.' OMG I NEED TYWIN CATCHING JAIME IN BED WITH BRIENNE.
> 
> So, yeah, this was supposed to be another attempt at a stand-alone(ish) prompt. And now I have another one-shot. Anyway, the first couple of paragraphs are smutty but that's it. I hope you enjoy!

Ser Jaime of House Lannister was on an all-time high. 

Firstly, he had evaded his father’s latest attempts at matchmaking. After much argument and some not-so-veiled threats from Tywin Lannister, Jaime would _not_ wed House Tyrell’s prized rose. She was _twelve,_ in Maiden’s Name.Secondly, he had managed to abscond from the perfumed halls of Highgarden to a tourney near Horn Hill. For once, the competition was actually worthy of his time. A mystery knight in battered, blue armour had matched every blow of his sword; every knock of his shield. And finally, _finally,_ his cock was now buried inside said mystery knight; Jaime on the precipice of his release. 

“ _Fuck,”_ he gasped, as the Blue Knight’s cunt tightened around his cock. 

She grunted in response; hands clenching the bedsheets as he took her from behind. One of his hands tightened its grip on her hip as he continued to thrust within her. The other mapped the rivets of her spine; watching as the muscles in her shoulders moved like ripples in the water. Short blonde hair was plastered to her forehead; face ruddy with the exertion of both the melee and their coupling. Yet, Jaime longed for more. His hand retreated to her cunt, and his fingers slid through wet curls, finding her clit and circling it in time with her thrusts.

Another grunt. Then a, “Yes!” caught in her throat as her pleasure began to build. 

Just as Jaime felt his own orgasm cresting, the door to his room at the local tavern was thrown open. A cold, familiar voice cut through the litany of moans and grunts. “Jaime.” 

“Fuck!” 

Tywin Lannister strode into the room, oblivious to his son’s profanity, but not, however, oblivious to his activities. “Just because we are in the Reach, son, does _not_ mean you can engage in such _depravity._ ”

Jaime, having since pulled himself out of his companion and gathered one of the bedsheets to cover his softening erection, simply stared at his father in disbelief. “ _What_?”

“The _boy_ you’re _fucking_.” 

Jaime turned to the Blue Knight. In the weak evening light, with her build and short hair and small breasts, she could easily be thought of as a man. The fact that Jaime was taking her from behind (an impersonality he had not cared for, as he had longed to see the depths of her eyes as he gave her pleasure) only added to his father’s attestation. But as the Blue Knight wrapped herself in the remaining bedsheets and placed as much distance between herself and the Lord of Casterly Rock as she could, her voice – and words – gave her sex away. 

“I am _not_ a _boy.”_

Tywin Lannister froze. He slowly turned on his heel to examine the lovers with new eyes. If it was possible, he looked even angrier than before. “I expected better of you, Jaime. You are a _Lannister._ Lannisters do not _fuck_ whores or wenches in tavern inns.”

Jaime snorted. “Tyrion does. And Grandfather—”

Tywin raised a single hand, cutting off Jaime’s rebuttal. “I assume you had the presence of mind _not_ to finish inside her.” 

“In that regard, Father, you interrupted us at the most _opportune_ time.” Jaime huffed. This was ridiculous. Thirty-two and he was still being treated like a squire first discovering his cock. Thirty-two and brides were still being foisted upon him; every aspect of his life arranged _for_ him. The levels of deception just to leave a castle for a tourney! This was it. He would suffer no more. “But perhaps, Father, this was not our first time lying together. Perhaps I’ve already put a babe in her belly. Will you shove moon tea down her throat? Force me to marry her?”

Jaime didn’t think his father’s face was capable of turning that shade of puce. “I will _not_ allow another Lannister to fall prey to a smallfolk bride.” Tywin then turned to the Blue Knight; face still ruddy but with a scowl now etched upon her features. “You. Girl. Who’s your father? The innkeeper? Stablehand?”

Her chin jutted forward, and Jaime recalled her determination on the tourney ground. Her stubbornness, too. “I am _no_ whore. Nor I am a _wench._ My father is Lord Selwyn.” 

Tywin Lannister’s mouth fell open; his brow furrowed. Jaime expected a further reprimand for his actions over the last few days, but nothing came. His father simply strode away and went to stare out of the nearby window. As the elder Lannister contemplated the tableau before him, Jaime was forced to do the same. The Blue Knight was no whore, no tavern wench. She was a lord’s daughter. Lord Selwyn Tarth. 

_Fuck._ Jaime kneeled his way across the mattress towards where the highborn lady he had so eagerly deflowered sat; knees pushed up to her chest as she rested against the headboard. “You didn’t tell me you were a lord’s daughter,” he hissed.

“And you didn’t tell me you were a _Lannister,”_ she retorted. It was true; he had opted to use the bastard name of ‘Hill’ in the melee. But at least he’d _used_ a name. Jaime had yet to know the identity of the woman he had so recklessly bedded. “If you are of noble birth, why in all Seven Hells did you agree to... _this_?” 

“I—” She opened her mouth, paused; her head falling. When she spoke again, he could see some of the anger in her features had given way to melancholy. “I celebrated my twenty-fourth nameday two moons ago. My father hasn’t had an offer for my hand in _years._ I thought no one would ever take it in a marital bed.” Bitterness crept into her tone. ”If men can go around fucking everything with a pulse, why can’t I? I can wield a sword better than any of you.” 

Jaime found himself smiling. “You are right in that, my Lady.”

“Don’t call me that. You didn’t call me that when we were—” Drinking in a tent after her victory in the melee. Kissing under the moonlight after they had discussed their love of the old stories. Offering to fuck in a warm room with a big bed. Jaime had thought her a smallfolk girl with dreams of grandeur; perhaps hoping to become a hedge knight whilst pretending to have a cock. At the time, her family name and upbringing had not mattered. Nothing had mattered: Jaime had just wanted her. “I wanted you. Is that so bad?” 

“No, it’s not. I wanted you, too.” 

She beamed. Those blue eyes lit up, like the summer sun rippling across the ocean. Gods, what he would give to take her now. The firmness of her muscle underneath his fingertips. Her strong, powerful legs wrapped around his hips. Her eyes, pulling him into the point of no return. It would be glorious; so unlike the impersonal fucking of before. A release spurred by good company and the adrenaline of the fight. This...this would be something else. Something _more._

But, as he did before, Jaime’s father had to ruin it. “She’s not what I would have chosen, but she’ll do.” 

A crease formed across Jaime’s brow. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’ll send a raven to Lord Tarth immediately and announce your betrothal.” 

His blue knight surged forward; one hand pressing the bedsheet to her chest while the other clenched the wooden bed frame. “My Lord—”

“It is the honourable thing to do, Lady Tarth. My son has made the _grievous_ error of deflowering a woman of noble birth. Now he will pay the price.” There was a glint in his eye. His father had won. Not his way, but he’d emerged the victor all the same. “At least your cock understands your duty to your house, if not the rest of you.”

And with that, Tywin Lannister swept from the room, leaving Jaime and the woman beside him all but betrothed. Jaime sunk onto the mattress beside her. “Fuck.” 

“Father won’t agree to it.” 

“Of course, he will. The chance to marry into the wealthiest house in Westeros? To say nothing of the fact that we’ve already enjoyed the bounty of our wedding night.” Jaime rubbed his hand across his face. “I have spent so many years avoiding the prospect of marriage.”

A wistful smile crossed his intended’s features. “A shame, then, that of all the girls he could have caught you with, he caught you with me.”

“There are no other girls. Not for… _years._ ” Jaime looked over at his companion, at the slight upturn of her mouth at his declaration. A strand of blonde hair was blocking far too much of his view of her eyes. So Jaime brushed it behind her ear, allowing his fingers to caress the shell. She quivered. “So. Do I have to wait for the septon to tell me your name, or can I be permitted to know it beforehand?” 

“Brienne. Brienne of Tarth.” 

“Brienne of Tarth.” _His future wife._ “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Brienne.”

And it was, truly. A wife he found enticing both in the bedroom and on the tourney ground? Only a Lannister could have such luck.


End file.
